The Damned Episode 3: Onward Christian Soldiers
by RobertlaMorte
Summary: Angel, Buffy and their friends must defeat the zealous horde of fanatics while La Morte and Faith deal with the reprecussions of their relationship. PLEASE R&R! Warning: Character Deaths! EPISODE COMPLETE!
1. Teaser

The horde of crusaders continued pouring through the breach. For every one that seemed to fall, ten took his or her place, brandishing their weapons with ferocious avarice. They pushed forward relentlessly, ignoring the dead and wounded that fell among them. A crowd of faceless men and women clad in rags and armed to the teeth. They fell upon the front ranks of the fighters, steadily forcing them back.  
  
Xander gritted his teeth as he aimed his shotgun, taking special notice to a tattooed fanatic armed with a scythe who was fighting with Buffy. The two traded blow for blow, Buffy matching the taller man's every move with her own, parrying the blade with her own. Then, another fanatic, a woman running with her mouth open wide screaming battle criees, rushed at Buffy from the side, brandishing her axe as if it were a tomahawk and she were about to lay the mortal blow upon the blonde slayer. Xander fired, a feeling of relief crossed him as the shotgun round blasted the woman backwards, raining blood across several of her comrades. He fired again into the onrushing horde, dropping three with one blast due to the heavy concentration. Xander kept firing and firing until his shotgun answered him with a loud click that meant it was empty. He cast it aside and took up his axe in time to fight with an onrushing group of fanatics.  
  
Buffy, Angel and Wesley were able to hold the line in the center, hewing away at any foe that dared approach them. However, their comrades were falling left and right. A potential screamed as several fanatics gutted her with their blades while her friends dropped them with crossbow bolts. The group was forced backwards even with Willow launching fireballs into the ranks of their foes and incinerating dozens with a single blast and Oz rampaging through the attackers' ranks. They ran backwards to the rear of the lobby while Willow covered them by launching several lethal spell blasts at the fanatics. Yet the fanatics kept on coming and even Buffy and Angel were beginning to tire from the endless fighting.  
  
The fanatic horde suddenly stepped backwards, leaving space between the bloodied defenders and the yelling, screaming faces of the ruthless attackers. The ranks parted ways to reveal a huge tan man shirtless and armed with twin curved blades. He walked forward, grinning as he twirled his weapons in a spectacle to amuse his allies and terrify his foes. Gideon glanced over among the ranks of his enemies. His grinning face meet the stern face of the slayer.  
  
Gideon smiled "so you're the slayer."  
  
Buffy didn't answer him but only returned the stare with a look of pure rage.  
  
"Well slayer, I'm only an emissary from the esteemed holy Micah Luke. We will let you and your friends go.if you give us the key. If you just give us her, then there will be no more senseless bloodshed. You're free to leave town and I promise that none of my flock shall bother you on your way out," Gideon paused, waiting for a response.  
  
Buffy answered him, "How about no?"  
  
Gideon sneered in reply, "Simple, then you will die." He raised his swords forward and the horde charged at the reformed defenders. The South African then charged straight for the slayer, one blade raised to parry and the other to thrust. Buffy stepped out from among her friends. Angel let go of her hand and silently pleaded for her to ask him for help. Buffy didn't look back and ran straight at the charging man in front of her, who stood at least a foot taller than her petite frame. Angel resumed killing, slicing aside a fanatic with a broadsword and throwing another back into the surging crowd with his superhuman strength. Wesley fought with him side-by-side, the two had been both enemies and friends before and they were willing to fight to the death as brothers.  
  
Wesley buried his axe into the exposed stomach of a hatchet-wielding fanatic and withdrew the blade swiftly, ignoring the loud gasping cries from the dying foe. He swerved aside to dodge a thrusting spear and batted it aside with one hand and threw the axe at the bearer, who dropped easily with the blade buried in her forehead. Wesley grimaced and picked up a hammer from one of his fallen foes and swung it wildly, knocking aside several more fanatics.  
  
Oz continued slaughtering through the ranks of the zealots charging at him. He ripped apart anyone who dared challenge him or raked them with his claws. He howled in bloodlust as he slew enemy after enemy. But their resources were seemingly limitless and spear thrusts and other weapons had taken their toll on Oz. The werewolf was bleeding in at least five wounds, but he ignored the acute pain and continued fighting. Until a tall figure in black armor snuck around behind him and struck him on the head with the flat of his sword. Oz fell, his head swiveling around to face his soon-to- be killer. He looked upon the flowing raven hair that obscured the face of Robert La Morte. La Morte grinned and kicked him savagely, knocking the werewolf unconscious with a direct blow to his forehead. He laughed cruelly and eyed the room for the other defenders as his soldiers surged around him.  
  
He spotted a group of fighters who were standing alone against the tide of fanatics. Among them were two black men, a white woman and a blonde-haired boy that slightly resembled the vampire that was fighting with the defenders. The other potentials around them had fallen to the horde and bodies of the girls and their attackers littered the floor around them. Most of the corpses were of his warriors, but La Morte didn't care. They were all expendable and he could easily afford to lose thirty troops per one defender they felled. He readied himself to charge the quartet that was holding off his soldiers, his eyes gleamed red with bloodlust as he tensed up, ready to spring forward and dispatch the first one, a tall black man dressed in a brown jacket and jeans.  
  
He charged forward, with his sword raised in a cleaving motion. He bowled combatants aside and quickly reached the unsuspecting Robin Wood. Wood's limited slayer sense told him that there was a presence to his right and he whirled around to face the pale figure that stood almost right next to him. He barely blocked the cleaving blow of the claymore with his katana. The force of the black-armored figure's sword broke his blade in two, which loudly clattered to the floor. Wood stumbled backwards, unnoticed by his comrades who were currently engaged in battles of their own. He fumbled around nervously for a weapon amongst the dead. The pale man walked towards him, his cloak billowing in the breeze. The armored figure's eyes glowed red with fury as an inhuman smile spread across his face.  
  
"La Morte," Wood gasped as he came face to face with the dreaded scourge.  
  
"Yes, and it is judgment day for you, my friend," the figure kept the stupid grin on his face and raised his claymore again.  
  
Wood charged at him, having seized a blade from one of the fallen fanatics. He sliced downward, only to have it blocked by a second blade from the black knight's left hand. It was a short rapier that parried the black former principal's blade away. Instantly Wood felt his foe run the claymore through him. The cold steel ripped through his chest and came out his back. Wood tried to speak, but only blood formed in his mouth, the result of a pierced lung.  
  
La Morte withdrew the blade and raised it high stained with Wood's blood. Connor, Gunn and Fred, having finished off their foes temporarily whirled to face the black knight.  
  
Fred's hands clasped her mouth as she stared at the fallen corpse of Robin Wood and the triumphant half-demon that stared at them in the same way a lion would face its prey. Gunn gritted his teeth in furor and shouted something incomprehensible in the din of the battle. Connor just stood there silently with a blank expression on his face, a look resembling that of pure terror. He raised his blade with anticipation while Gunn kept his rapier at ready and Fred clutched her hatchet with a look of fear.  
  
"So are these the so-called 'ministers of grace' that stopped the apocalypse? How pathetic you are!" La Morte laughed, taking pleasure out of the fear and anxiety in his foes' faces. "But no matter, you shall all fall before my blade." He grinned and ran straight at them, both swords by his sides ready to strike.  
  
Gunn was the fastest to respond and he had his rapier raised in time to parry the blow, his rapier barely parrying the blow of the claymore, sending sparks flying into the air. With his free hand, he dodged in time to avoid the second blade which swept into the area where he had been standing moments before. Connor joined Gunn in facing La Morte while the fanatic closed around them in a vicious circle eager to watch their champion slay the fighters that had given them so much trouble. It was as if a circle of hyenas were watching their leader hunt down a feeble group of prey. 


	2. Act One

Roll Titles: The Damned  
  
Starring:  
  
Eliza Dushku as Faith  
  
Casey Affleck as Sir Robert La Morte  
  
Alexis Denisof as Wesley Wyndam-Pryce  
  
Alyson Hannigan as Willow Rosenberg  
  
David Boreanz as Angel  
  
And Seth Green as Daniel 'Oz' Osborne  
  
Michelle Trachtenberg as Dawn Summers  
  
Special Guest Stars:  
  
Anthony Stewart Head as Rupert Giles  
  
Nicholas Brendon as Alexander 'Xander' Harris  
  
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood  
  
Amy Acker as Winifred 'Fred' Burkle  
  
J. August Richards as Charles Gunn  
  
Andy Hallett as Lorne  
  
Iyari Limon as Kennedy  
  
D.B. Woodside as Principal Robin Wood  
  
Vincent Karthieser as Connor  
  
Jake Busey as Micah Luke  
  
Arnold Vosloo as Gideon.  
  
And Sarah Michelle Gellar as Buffy Summers  
  
La Morte had just dispatched one of the black men. He was an easy foe, stumbling and swinging his blade like a feeble peasant. Robert savagely defeated him, his claymore smashing through his opponent's defense and burying itself in Wood's chest. The taller black man fell silently, blood running out of his mouth as he collapsed on his death throes. La Morte only laughed, ridiculing his fallen unlucky foe. He withdrew the claymore and wiped the blade on his cloak, leaving a red stain that quickly dissipated on the black cloth. Robert whirled around to face the three fighters remaining.  
  
He surveyed them with his blood-red eyes, casually scanning the looks of fear and doubt on their faces. La Morte continued guffawing savagely, hoping to inspire more uncertainty into the eyes of his foes. After all, no human can ever put up a decent fight when they are frightened down to the depths of their souls. He knew that from hundreds of years of experience.  
  
The other black man was the first to gather his composure from a frightened stupor. He carried a long rapier and had a sufficient height advantage over La Morte, so La Morte backed off slightly to afford him some momentum before he would cross blades with his foe. One of his other opponents, a blond-haired, blue eyed young man who didn't seem that much younger than La Morte (Robert still retained a youthful build and handsomeness despite his impressive age), took this as a sign of opportunity and charged forward, yelling loudly and brandishing his axe wildly. La Morte cautiously awaited the charging foes and crossed his rapier with the glowing claymore. He planned his battle quickly and silently within his brain as he surveyed the oncoming foes. When the blonde man was only a few steps away, La Morte took a step to the right and lunged forward with his claymore, parrying the boy's axe as if it were a stick.  
  
Gunn lifted his rapier in a slashing motion as he rushed towards La Morte from the left side, hoping to score a blow in before La Morte could react to his onrush. To his surprise, a rapier like his own appeared in the black knight's left hand and blocked the slash. La Morte then lashed out with his foot, knocking Connor off-balance and the blonde stumbled backwards while Robert whirled around to bear the full brunt of his attack against Gunn. Gunn punched La Morte with his free hand, but the shorter pale-faced man just absorbed the blow as if it was a mosquito bite.  
  
La Morte then headbutted Gunn straight in the chest and stepped backwards to plan out his next moves. Gunn gritted his teeth and took the pain. His chest throbbed like it had been hit by a train. He had fought vampires and all sorts of demons before but this man seemed to be even more powerful than anything he had ever faced before. The bald fighter lunged at the black-armored figure, lashing out with a swift uppercut combination with a thrust with his rapier. His fist connected with La Morte's chin before he could react and La Morte went sprawling, barely managing to parry Gunn's thrust with the claymore.  
  
Gunn glanced over to Connor, who was rising up and groggily coming to. It was a mistake that cost him the battle. La Morte used the precious few seconds to regain his balance and he raised the claymore in his right hand and slammed it down with full force against Gunn's rapier. The black man's rapier was smashed into two pieces by the force of the knight's blow. The massive Scottish sword cleaved downward, burying itself in the center of Gunn's face and sliding downward. Gunn struggled briefly, trying to fight the black knight, but La Morte responded with a stab of his rapier and buried it in Gunn's stomach. He put his full frame into the claymore, cleaving past Gunn's skull and into his brain, ending the life of the noble man who shared a history and a companionship with Angel.  
  
La Morte withdrew both blades, smiling as Gunn's corpse fell to the ground with a loud thud. Connor paused right in his tracks and stared at the mutilated body of the man who had been one of his most trusted and loyal friends, someone he continued to respect despite his deep hatred for his vampire father. His blue eyes were filled with tears as he watched the black-armored figure place his foot on the vanquished man's neck and raise the bloodstained swords in the air, answered with cheers by the milling hordes of fanatics.  
  
Fred had watched the battle with trepidation, she tried to secure a steady lock on the black-armored figure who was fighting Charles. She had always possessed a love for the man, and looked up to him as a fighter and comrade. Now, he was gone, his life extinguished by the power of Robert La Morte's claymore. She let out a loud wail of grief for her fallen hero and lover and stared at his mutilated corpse. Her sorrow turned to rage and she raised her crossbow on the black-armored figure standing over her lover's corpse. She pressed the trigger and loosed the bolt at the hateful monster.  
  
Connor exclaimed loudly and clenched his left fist in joy as he watched the bolt bury itself in La Morte's back. It protruded form his back, having pierced his armor. Screams from the fanatics resounded throughout his ears as they thought their glorious commander had died, cruelly slain by Fred's crossbow. But Connor's newfound joy and the fanatic army's sorrow soon disappeared as they watched in horror and amazement at La Morte's reaction.  
  
La Morte whirled around to face both Connor and Fred. His agonized expression was replaced by a wicked grimace as he first sheathed his claymore and then with his right hand, pulled the bolt from out of his back, blood seeping out of the wood. But his was not ordinary human blood, it was a reddish-black reflecting the mix of races he was. But the flow of blood was only brief as his wound miraculously sealed up within a matter of seconds. La Morte snapped the bolt in two and threw it upon the floor. He growled and then his furor was replaced with a sly smile. He walked forward, calmly staring at Fred, who in fear tried to reload her crossbow.  
  
The crowd and Connor watched as La Morte, ten paces away from Fred and out of sword range stopped. He allowed Fred to reload her crossbow a second time and she stared at him like a prey before its hunter, with a mixture of defiance and fear. The black-armored man raised his rapier and threw it as if it was a knife. The projectile buried itself in Fred's chest. She stared down and looked in amazement at the rapier hilt protruding from her chest and then glanced back at her killer before she flopped down upon the floor, joining her lover among the dead.  
  
"NOOOOOO!" Connor screamed in rage and despair. La Morte whirled around to face him while the crowd chanted "Kill him, Kill him, Kill the infidel!"  
  
The knight paused and looked down upon the defiant opponent before him. The pale face of La Morte shined with bloodlust. His lips parted to speak.  
  
"You think you can stop me?" His eyes gleamed with victory and arrogance.  
  
Connor shot back at him with vehement hatred in his voice, "You and your fanatics shall not leave this place with Dawn. If I won't stop you, then the slayer will."  
  
"If you really think that, then you're just an ignorant, silly naïve boy," the black knight chuckled. He looked over to his side and called out loudly, "Angel! Watch and see your son die!"  
  
Angel, Kennedy, Wesley and Xander were all fighting back to back against the endless horde of fanatics. Kennedy sliced away at her enemies, sending them sprawling with cuts across their faces or wounds deep within their chests. When this failed to deter them, she lashed out with anything she had, her feet and fists colliding with the weak flesh. Angel fought beside her, snapping the neck of a howling Hispanic man armed with a sickle and then knocking his comrade, a huge fanatic clad in a brown robe backwards, knocking over a dozen fanatics with his massive body.  
  
"Anyone else wants some?" he snarled in the faces of his opponents.  
  
Then, his ears picked up La Morte's murderous challenge. He ran forward, knocking foes aside, snapping necks and slashing apart with his blade anyone that dared cross him. He reached the circle of fanatics surrounding Connor and knocked aside several wide-eyed foes in time to face the battle between his son and the black knight.  
  
La Morte looked at the astonished vampire before resuming his attack against Angel's son. He waved the finger of his free hand in an insulting motion. His evil smile reflected his intentions and he motioned for the fanatics around him to restrain the wily Angel from intervening in his son's impending death.  
  
The fanatics howled with laughter as they rushed at Angel, the vampire batted them aside in a futile attempt to reach his son. The son he loved and who hated him. The son who had betrayed him but Angel continued to persist with love and devotion for his hateful offspring. His soul panged his body with feelings of loss and love as he lashed out at the ocean of foes surrounding him as he tried to save the wayward son he loved so dearly.  
  
Connor entered a fighting stance as he watched La Morte walk towards him, the latter's cape billowing in the breeze of battle. His facial complexion reflected defiance and hatred for the man standing before him. He attacked first, slashing down with his axe, noting that his foe only had an inch of half-inch on him. He put all of his strength into the blow, which clashed with La Morte's claymore; sparks flew off the blades due to the force behind the blows.  
  
Connor stepped backwards and tried to block the claymore with the back of his hand as he tried to thrust under the black-haired man's guard. His foe switched his blow from a thrust to a slash and sliced off Connor's arm with a savage slice. Connor fell backwards, his plan torn to shreds by the part- demon's resourcefulness. He rose up, blood seeping from his wound and his eyes filled with tears from the pain and loss.  
  
He yelled loudly and affectionately into the crowd before he met the black knight for the last time, calling out "Father, I love you!"  
  
Angel heard his son's strained voice and charged forward, finding a newfound strength in a desperate attempt to save his son. He struggled through the surging mass of bodies deterring his advance, leaving dead and wounded behind him as he unleashed his rage. He finally cleared the mass of fanatics to face-  
  
La Morte effortlessly batted aside Connor's slash with his axe. He seized the boy's arm with his free hand and wrenched the axe from the blonde's grip. He cast the axe aside and seized Connor by the throat, clutching the struggling boy in one hand as he turned around to face Connor's body.  
  
"Let him go and I won't kill you," Angel snarled as his expression of pure violence and hatred met La Morte's smiling face.  
  
"I think not, Angelus, I'm afraid the pleasure's mine," Robert La Morte snickered, exaggeratingly pronouncing angelus in a haughty, supercilious voice. He then raised the claymore and slit the struggling blonde's throat with it, splattering crimson red blood over his black armor.  
  
"Connor! No!" Angel cried as he fell to his knees. His son was dead. Connor was the son who never loved him, the same boy who imprisoned him under the ocean and betrayed him so many times. And now Connor was gone, slain by the same killer who had murdered Gunn, Wood and Fred. All of them had been trusted confidantes and comrades. He glared at La Morte with unfiltered malevolence.  
  
"You're dead La Morte!" He screamed before he was engulfed by the surging mass of fanatics once again.  
  
The tall, black-armored man only laughed his mouth wide open in joy. The laugh reverberated across the room, entering the ears of the remaining warriors who fought with Angel. It was a sound they would never forget and a sight that would always haunt them within their memory. The sight of the laughing dark knight stained with the blood of Robin Wood, Charles Gunn, Winnifred Burkle and Connor walking towards them while his subordinates parted ranks.  
  
But in that dark hour, Buffy managed to secure a victory against another seemingly unstoppable foe named Gideon. 


	3. Act Two

While the battle surged around her, Buffy remained locked in combat with a huge South African. He had an enormous height advantage over her, but this advantage was only superficial as Buffy utilized it to avoid his crushing blows. She would then strike back, lashing out at him with quick blows from her fists and feet. He at first absorbed the pain but after several cycles he grew tired and weaker by the minute. Nevertheless, he kept on slicing and slashing with his twin blades, hoping to score a hit on the wily slayer. But the petite blonde dodged his blows by ducking under his frame or somersaulting in a marvelous display of her athletic ability.  
  
"You can't win this infidel!" Gideon shouted in an effort to frighten his opponent. This pathetic insult barely deterred Buffy, having endured far worse from other foes. After all, he was only human despite his superhuman strength and fanatical will. She ducked another slash from one of his blades.  
  
Buffy responded to his taunts, "You know, I've heard that about a thousand times before. And guess what? I'm still alive!" She blocked one of his blades with a dagger and dodged the second one in order to secure a swift uppercut to his face. She then completed her maneuver by lashing out savagely with her left foot, burying it into the giant's groin.  
  
Gideon staggered backwards, doubling over in pain and dropping one of his curved swords. Buffy rushed over and picked it up. She hefted it while watching her foe writhe in pain.  
  
"Not too shabby, I like it," she grinned as she balanced the blade in her right hand despite its 20 inch length. She titled her head to the side, cracking her neck while her outsmarted foe slowly rose to his feet in pain.  
  
Gideon's brown eyes glared at Buffy's blue ones in anger, "I shall kill you for that, slayer!" He charged forward, swiping back and forth while Buffy backed off, always one step ahead of the swishing blade. He lunged out with his right fist and she knocked it aside with a kick and parried his blade with hers. She grunted, having to put all her strength into the parry. The petite blonde then jumped up, knocking aside Gideon's blade and burying her curved sword into his neck and quickly withdrawing it as she planted a kick right into his chest, sending the huge tan man slamming against the wall, flattening several fanatics milling around him.  
  
The giant dropped his sword and clutched his neck as blood splattered from the deep wound. He tried to form words but only could manage a chocking gasp before he pitched forward, crashing down to the floor, his massive arms smashing into the carpet.  
  
Buffy smiled, "now that's was divine justice."  
  
She heard Angel's cries from behind her and Buffy whirled around to rejoin her friends. She fought through the crowds of fanatics, noting with sorrow the bodies of many of the potential slayers surrounded by the corpses of their fallen foes. She finally reached the rest of her comrades who had taken refuge in the lounge, almost tripping over the wall of bodies of fanatics that had piled up up in front of the door. Her smiling face met with the grave looks of Willow, Kennedy, Wesley, Xander and a couple potentials.  
  
"Well their leader's taken care of at least," She grinned as she dispatched a fanatic trying to sneak up on her with a backwards kick that snapped his neck.  
  
"La Morte's dead?" Wesley piped up, his face mixed with hope at the thought of the dreaded knight's demise.  
  
"No, the other one," Buffy's response was met by dismay from the rest of the group. She stared at them with curiosity.  
  
"Great, just great! We're doomed, because if you didn't watch what just happened, let me fill you in," Xander exclaimed in frustration. "Buffy, Angel's gone, he heard Connor screaming for his help. I don't know exactly but I guess La Morte's killed the others and Angel's probably dead if he dares fight him."  
  
"What are you talking about?" Buffy snarled and lashed out at Xander. Xander just took the slow and winced as she slapped him across the face. When she tried to strike again he grabbed her thin arm with his considerably larger hand. She fought him but Xander continued holding on, his face expressionless.  
  
Wesley and Kennedy rushed and broke up the fight, the redhead trying to reassure Buffy that Angel was still alive. Xander continued muttering that Angel was dead and that the fanatics were going to break down the door. He noted loudly that he only had a few shots left for his shotgun, which had been their savior besides Willow's spellcasting.  
  
"Buffy, Angel's dead-" Xander was suddenly interrupted by the dark haired form of Angel, who had snuck around through the back.  
  
"Angel!" Buffy rushed over to the tall vampire and hugged him. Yet he remained limp against her. "What's wrong?" Buffy asked as she stared into the angelic face of her former lover.  
  
"Connor's dead. So are Gunn, Wood and Fred. La Morte killed them." He only managed broken sentences as Angel felt the dark sorrow flood his soul when he recalled the battles only minutes before. The black knight had robbed him of his friends and his son and Angel promised within his heart that he would make Sir Robert La Morte pay for his horrible crimes.  
  
Wesley sat down on the couch and tried to restrain himself from breaking out into sobbing, but he failed and he burst into tears. He took off his classes and tried to dry his eyes, but the tears continued. Memories of better times flooded his mind as he recalled the comrades he had fought with during his tenure in Los Angeles. The people who took him in, who fought with him and shared experiences with were now dead, with the exception of Angel. He had never suffered such a terrible loss in his life, not in Sunnydale or England. It was as if he had been robbed of all resolve, all the will to fight. And he promised to extract vengeance upon the creature that had committed such a vile act.  
  
Willow, Kennedy, even Xander were affected by Wesley's breakdown and Angel's remorse. The redheaded witch and the raven-haired potential slayer hugged each other and tried to console each other of their loss. They remembered fondly the principal who had fought with them and protected them till his very end. The comrade they met during Sunnydale's final days was gone, his life rudely terminated not by the vampires he was a sworn enemy against but by the hands of an abomination to humanity. Kennedy tried to prevent the darkness from enveloping Willow as she heard it had before, when Tara died but her attempts were of no avail. Willow's eyes once again were clouded over by a black haze of furor and a desire to inflict severe pain on the murderer who had slain Robin Wood. She brushed Kennedy aside and began walking towards the door while her voice muttered dark incantations as she prepared to unleash her power upon the fanatical hordes outside in the hotel lobby.  
  
Xander and the potentials tried to restrain her while a grief-stricken Buffy, a remorseful Angel and a sobbing Wesley looked on.  
  
The redhead only snarled at them with no trace of humanity within her voice, "Get out of my way." Xander raised his hands in a peaceful motion and motioned for the others to back off.  
  
Willow stared at the door and ripped it off its hinges, flattening the fanatics outside that were pounding on the door. She sent blazing fireball after fireball into their ranks, incinerating those that did not flee. The smell of singing and burning flesh filled the lounge. Xander and the potentials rushed out to support Willow, while a cautious Buffy and Angel followed, Wesley was the last to leave, having retained his composure and with the same determined and ruthless expression on his face as Willow. He charged outside to the nearest group of fanatics and hacked away with his axe, slicing off limbs, killing and knocking aside any who dared oppose him. The remnants of the fanatics fled as Willow summoned her darkest spells against them, tearing off the flesh of some, incinerating others and killing those that stood in her way. Then, the fanatics parted as the tall, black-armored figure of Robert La Morte walked out from among the army. His cocky smile vanished as he saw the charred, mutilated corpses of his warriors and the dead corpse of Gideon.  
  
"How dare you defy us!" He snarled, enraged at the sight before him. His voice resonated throughout the lobby but did not faze the defenders before him.  
  
"You'll pay for what you did La Morte," Willow spoke emotionless and with complete hatred in her eyes. She shouted loudly in Latin and sent several fireballs hurling straight at La Morte. The black knight only stood there and stretched out his free hand. He murmured something and a wall of magic force surrounded him and absorbed the fireballs.  
  
La Morte smiled, "You're not the only one who can do magic, witch." He spat out the last word with utter disdain for it, inspiring more rage within Willow.  
  
"Die!" Willow screamed as she sent spell after spell at him, only to watch as he countered it with a counter spell or a spell of his own.  
  
Even her limitless store of magic inside of her seemed to run out as they battled each other, while La Morte seemed to absorb the magic from the spell and use it against her. He refused to tire after withstanding the devastating power of the red-haired witch.  
  
"Had enough?" He snickered and a chuckle resounded throughout the fanatics ranks as they realized that the powerful witch had just met her match.  
  
"NEVER!" Willow screamed as she stepped towards him, her feet stamping against the carpet. "Now, I'm really going to kill you." Buffy grimaced as she remembered the last time Willow had done the same thing, endowing herself with superhuman strength so she could kill Andrew and Johnathan. Then, Willow was more than a match for even Buffy's superhuman strength, and she was even more powerful now then she was then. Buffy hoped that she could overpower La Morte and kill or at least weaken him so that her and the others could finish him off. With the leader out of the way, the rest of the fanatics would be a weak flock of sheep before the hardened warriors. But Buffy's optimism was soon dashed.  
  
"You think you can stop me, Willow, oh how misguided you are," La Morte chuckled. He walked out to meet her, his claymore glowing purple. "My claymore glows because it possesses a power unlike any other sword. It has a power to banish souls to the darkest depths of hell or send demons or spirits back to where they came. It was bathed in the blood of the First Evil's corporeal body and banished its body to the netherworld. My power grows stronger by the minute while you grow weaker. Your magics are nothing against me."  
  
He charged forward, running at full speed towards the red-haired witch. Willow didn't expect his attack and tried to block it with a magic shield. La Morte merely slashed at the shield with the claymore and the powerful magic dissipated against its blade. Willow snarled at him and tried to summon a fireball but her spell was interrupted as he plunged the claymore into her.  
  
Buffy screamed as she watched La Morte run the blade through her best friend and its point exited her back bathed in the witch's blood. Xander gritted his teeth and was about to unload his shotgun before Angel restrained him.  
  
"You'll kill both of them," Angel shouted to the shorter human. He forced Xander to loose his grip on the gun and Xander went flying against the floor. He burst into tears and lay their, crying loudly and repeating Willow's name in desperation.  
  
But then, a miracle happened. La Morte smiled as he watched the strained face of the witch. He buried the blade deeper and enjoyed the soft cries of the witch as the sword robbed her of her mana. Willow's eyes reverted back to their old color as the black magic within her dissipated before the power of La Morte's sword. But then, she thrust her head against his ear and managed to whisper something inside of it. La Morte then froze, his smile vanished and he withdrew the blade but shot out his free hand to break Willow's fall and keep her by his side.  
  
Then, he sheathed the claymore and looked up at Willow's friends while holding Willow's limp form. Buffy noticed what appeared to be tears forming in the man's eyes and was astonished at this bizarre change of behavior. But this was not the end of it, for La Morte began muttering something and his right hand began to glow a golden color. He placed the hand over Willow's heart and to the astonished eyes of the onlookers; Willow's wounds healed rapidly and she began coughing as life returned to her pallid flesh. The taller man let go of the redhead who staggered backwards and looked at herself. Her astounded expression turned to a smile as she stared at him as if he had redeemed himself and La Morte was no longer the ruthless killer he had been moments before.  
  
A gasp went up from Buffy who ran over to Willow and stared at the wicca as if she had seen a ghost. Xander, Angel, Wesley and the others ran over to the blonde slayer and the red-haired witch. They were even more astonished when one of the fanatics snarled loudly "why didn't you kill her?" La Morte whirled around and sent him flying with a blow from the hilt of his sword. He glanced back, a sorrowful, depressed look on his face and then fled the hotel while both the fanatics and the scoobies watched.  
  
The fanatics fell back, astounded by the sudden change of behavior of their champion. They began retreating from the hotel, hastily casting aside their weapons and fleeing the lobby.  
  
"What the hell did you tell him?" Xander asked Willow with an amazed look on his face that was repeated by the others.  
  
"I awakened his human side. The side which had been buried within the recesses of his mind for hundreds of years, imprisoned by the competing demon and angel halves of him. His soul must've burned with remorse far more intense than even Angel's. I guess he tried to apologize by reviving me," Willow spoke brightly, herself amazed at what she was able to wrought with only a few words.  
  
"His saving you won't excuse what he's done," Angel replied, "Soul or no soul, I'll still kill him." 


	4. Act Three

Giles fought with hand to and with one of the fanatics. He had a longer reach than his foe and he used it to his advantage, striking out with his weapon and slashing the fanatic across the face with it. The man grunted, ignoring the pain and slammed right into the tall Englishman with his shoulder. He flattened Giles against the wall, stunning him briefly. He raised his hatchet in one hand and was about to bring it down when a hand grabbed him from behind and snapped his neck. Gile's vision cleared and he found himself staring up at Angel.  
  
"Thanks," he managed to utter as he staggered to his feet.  
  
"Where's Dawn?" the vampire instinctively asked, staring around the room with the hope of finding Buffy's brunette sister.  
  
"I'm sorry," Giles blurted out, "but there was too many of them. Lorne and I tried to fight them off but they overwhelmed us. They subdued Dawn while we were forced to watch and dragged her away. Then they surrounded Lorne and-" He was unable to continue as he recalled the horrible scene he witnessed.  
  
Angel looked over to the other side of the room. Couches, beds and tables were overturned. Lamps were smashed and broken glasses littered the floor. Corpses of fanatics littered the floor. Giles and Lorne refused to go down without a fight. Then, he saw the body of his trusted demon ally. The singing demon lay against the wall. His feet and hands were nailed to the wall while his body was horribly mutilated. A blade stuck out of his chest next to where his heart was. His face was fixed in a defiant leer. Angel turned his back on the atrocity and tended to Giles while the others arrived. Buffy, Xander, Willow, Kennedy, a couple potentials and a struggling Wesley carrying the limp form of Oz in werewolf form arrived soon after, all horrified at the sight before them.  
  
"They took Dawn," Buffy gritted her teeth as she imagined the thought of those fiends torturing her sister in some grotesque ritual. "I'll find them- "  
  
Giles interrupted her, sobbing "I'm sorry Wesley but they killed Lorne. Twenty fanatics surrounded him and he couldn't fight all of them off. They overpowered him and nailed him to the wall in a mock crucifixion. They tortured him, did horrible things to him and then they finally killed him by ripping out his heart and pouring holy water into the gaping hole. It was so horrible-"  
  
"It's alright," Xander responded, "We'll get them."  
  
"I'm going after La Morte first. He'll know where they are," Angel grimaced, his face a mask full of determination and extreme anger. His mind was still plagued with the anguished memories of watching his son die at the hands of the nefarious black knight. He remembered his brief moments hugging the corpse of his wayward son while blood ran down his hands. His eyes glared with hatred for the creature that had done that horrible act. The tall, black-armored figure that stood yards away from Angel, gloating his victory and snickering at Angel's lamentations.  
  
Buffy nodded, "he's right, La Morte will know where they took Dawn. And I'll tear him apart after what he did to Wood-"  
  
Willow interrupted her, "you can't do that! He's good now, I'm sure of it." Her eyes lit up as she tried to convince the others that La Morte no longer posed a threat and could in fact be a valuable ally. But her arguments fell on deaf ears. Her friends refused to forget the sight of their comrades being skewered by the savage blade of the dark knight and they would avenge them at all costs. The same piercing hatred now took ahold of them as it had their enemies minutes before.  
  
"Xander, Willow, Kennedy, you watch over Oz and make sure he's alright. Wesley, Giles, Angel and I are going after La Morte," Buffy barked her orders, everyone noting the ferocity underlying in her voice.  
  
"Buffy, he could have let me die! But he didn't! He spared me because I drove the demon out of his heart!" Willow blurted out, trying to persuade Buffy. But it was Angel who answered her. Angel, the vampire whose soul was now gripped with the voices of vengeance. "For all I know it could've been an act. He didn't spare Connor and I'll grant him the same quarter he showed Gunn and Fred," Angel growled as he stormed out the room, clutching a sword at his side.  
  
Buffy shot Willow a dirty look as she ran to Angel's side. Wesley and Giles followed her, turning their backs on the cries of reason that Willow tried to offer them as they embarked on their quest to rid the world of the dark knight La Morte.  
  
Willow relented with her protests and started crying. Kennedy rushed over to her and comforted her.  
  
"All the bloodshed, too many dead, too many dead," Willow muttered as she sobbed and Kennedy lay her soft hands on her shoulder. Xander and the potentials carried Oz to a couch and patched up his numerous bleeding wounds. Willow broke from her crying and rushed over to Oz. She murmured some ancient healing spell and watched as Oz's wounds and lacerations vanished as his body quickly healed.  
  
His eyes opened and Oz sat up.  
  
"So did we win? I felt I was dead-" His brief moment of delight was ended by the grave faces of those around him.  
  
"What happened?" He spoke up, awaiting a reply from the others that clustered around him.  
  
"Buffy, Angel, Giles and Wesley are going after La Morte." Xander trailed off, unable to break the despairing news to the werewolf.  
  
"What about the others?"  
  
"They're dead," Kennedy answered him, "La Morte killed them. He almost killed Willow too but she changed him somehow."  
  
Willow remained mute and exchanged a look with Oz. Oz smiled, "I guess not even the most hardened demon can stand up to one of your magically induced rages." Willow managed a slight smile at Oz's joke and she kissed him on the cheek. Oz blushed, turning red, much to Kennedy's chagrin, who was slightly dismayed at her lover's apparent favoritism. Xander sat off in the corner.  
  
"Well, looks like all we have to do is wait until the others return," he spoke to no one. He checked his pockets for any spare shells, noting that they were empty, he tossed his shotgun aside and picked up an axe. "This will do in a jiffy."  
  
He watched while the others talked and Oz tried to comfort the others after their traumatizing losses, but he refused to indulge in it. Lately, he had been suffering from fits of depression. His blindness in his right eye served him no better, crippling him greatly. He wasn't the same old joking Xander anymore. No, he was the product of childhood abuse and countless years of fighting demons. Finally, it had all caught up to him and his life had snuffed out all vestiges of his old exuberant personality, replacing it with a brooding, morose one. He was almost like Willow now, only his redheaded childhood friend still possessed some humor in her life that she could laugh at Oz's corny jokes. He couldn't even laugh it his own, much less anyone else's. Xander knew this life was not for him, neither were these friends and he planned to leave the others and embark on his own journey, to find a new life for his new self since the old one seemed to not care anymore. His stared at the glowing face of Willow and sighed, he was becoming more and more like Buffy as well, a withdrawn bitter figure devoid of all the good qualities it once had.  
  
Faith waited in the shadows of the church for La Morte to return. It didn't matter that he was probably killing her friends. She could've cared less about them, no one of them really seemed to hold her in high regard anyway. No, Faith was still the scheming murderess while Buffy was the brilliant, fearless leader. Well, maybe not anymore for the blonde slayer's case, but Faith knew she was never welcome anywhere Buffy was. Her supposedly superior leadership skills had culminated in a bloody ambush during the final days of Sunnydale and had left scores of potential slayers, her soldiers dead because of her mistake. Of course Buffy would have never made it. The name still made her sick, no matter how much Buffy posed as her friend or how many deep conversations they could have, a part of Faith still burned with hatred towards her. The two sides of Faith seemed to struggle for control and now the darker Faith had returned with a vengeance, finding a perfect counterpart in La Morte. The compassionate, kind side of Faith took a backseat while the wilder, passionate and savage side took over. Wood and the others had only been one night stands, La Morte was the one. He was the perfect boyfriend to her as the mayor had been a father.  
  
He wasn't a self-righteous do-gooder like Buffy's boyfriends had become after she had turned them away from their wilder sides. Nope, he was the same charismatic, cruel and merciless fiend Faith had met on the battlefield, and instantly fallen in love with. She recalled the hours before when they had made love in the desolate church, the walls echoing with sounds of their lovemaking. It was perfect, Faith had never felt happier in her life. Never mind that the bringer of her happiness had tried to kill her only hours before. Trivial things like that didn't matter to Faith.  
  
She heard the loud clunk of La Morte's boots hit the church floor as the door swung open, revealing the interior of the church underneath the pale moonlight. She whirled around to face the tall figure clad in the black armor, the armor stained in the blood of his enemies. She rushed up to him and passionately kissed him on the lips, drawing her tongue inside his mouth. He felt different though, he greeted her advances coldly as if she were a piece of spoiled fish. He pushed her aside and staggered forward, ignoring her as he shuffled forward.  
  
"Are you okay?" She inquired, stunned by his abrupt change of behavior.  
  
He turned around to face her. Faith noticed his change, how his eyes were now a sad blue instead of a glowing red. His face looked paler than ever, more haggard than before. He looked like a depressed, ruined shell of a man, not the wild and bloodthirsty demon she had known.  
  
"Leave me alone," he spoke, brushing her aside as she tried to come onto him.  
  
"Man, R what's going on? You were just like a mad killer moments before and now you're this pathetic boy toy?" Faith walked up to him and reached out with her hand, stroking his cheek gently.  
  
"Your friend, the witch, she freed me from the clutches of the demon. I've never felt free like this before, free from the shackles of war and bloodlust. Yet, my freedom has been accompanied by pangs of guilt. I remember everyone I killed, every face of the men, women and children still burns in my memory and I shall never forget anyone."  
  
"Wow R, you're beginning to sound a little too much like Angel for my comfort, c'mon, where's the burning demon inside of you just wanting to be let out?" Faith grinned as she stroked him.  
  
Robert struck her, knocking Faith onto the floor with the force of his armored fist. Faith licked the blood off of the slight gash that had appeared on her lip. "Woah there tiger, you're getting a little too frisky."  
  
"I shall never be that man again!" La Morte screamed, deafening Faith as his voice echoed across the church. "That abomination murdered thousands and you actually want him to return? You are a sick and depraved woman, milady."  
  
"Milady? Sounds like your demon didn't let you out since four centuries ago," Faith grinned, "and you know you want him back. You loved the bloodlust, well, maybe some part of you did, and you want to have more. I know the feeling, once you have it, there's no turning back."  
  
"Silence- You monster!" Robert La Morte seized her and slammed her against the floor, tears rolling down his face, "do you know how it feels to suddenly be awakened by the screams of the children from a village three hundred years ago as you watched them burn in the safety of their own homes while their parents were gutted on the streets. It burns your mind, you can't drive it out, it maddens you, drives you to the depths of insanity! You never want to kill again, but there's a side of you that loves it, that wants to persist in the butchery. And you never have the strength to drive it out!"  
  
La Morte's words stung Faith, destroying her darker side that had seized control, forcing it back into the recesses of her mind. Her memories of the people she killed, only a tiny fraction of La Morte's bodycount returned, plaguing her. She recalled the innocent face of the deputy mayor, of the volcanologist, of all the others as she mercilessly killed them, laughing in their faces. Those haunting faces returned moaning their wronged cries into her head, racking her with guilt and frustration. She knew she must not ever return to that Faith, the betrayer.  
  
She kissed La Morte, but it felt different to the both of them. This was not the superficial, animal attraction that had created the romance between them. This was a spiritual love unlike either of them had ever encountered. They were both dark and brooding souls searching for answers and redemption from their foul pasts. La Morte returned the kiss and they made out of the bare church floor, both plagued with the tormented cries of their victims and haunted by their consciences. La Morte and Faith barely noticed as four figures stepped into the church.  
  
The couple was started by the loud banging sound as one of the new arrivals picked up a pew and hurled it against the wall, shattering it into splinters. La Morte and Faith both rose to their feet, the knight had unsheathed his claymore while the raven-haired slayer clutched a dagger. They faced the unnerved, vengeful faces of Buffy Anne Summers, Angel, Rupert Giles and Wesley Wyndham-Price.  
  
Angel smiled, his vampiric visage covering his face. "Thought that would grab your attention." 


	5. Act Four

"I knew you'd come," La Morte hissed slowly as he reared himself up to his full height. He looked over at Faith, who stood in a fighting stance by his side. She had never looked more beautiful, with her raven hair, her fiery brown ears, her luscious body and her warrior spirit stood out more than ever. If it involved him, it involved her.  
  
"Faith," snarled Buffy, "so typical of you to be screwing the enemy while your friends die at his hands." She stood opposite Faith by Angel, Gideon's scimitar in her hands.  
  
"Sorry B, guess I wasn't cut out for your lot, but no worries, I found my own dark, brooding boyfriend. And you know what? He's not a bloodsucker, which is more than what I can say for you."  
  
"You leave Spike out of this, you're not fit to even mention his name," Buffy's eyes narrowed as she tensed to lunge right at Faith and put an end to the dark slayer once and for all. Her free hand clenched into a fist as she imagined smashing Faith's face in.  
  
Giles spoke up, "I thought you were a new woman Faith, the old murderous traitor was gone. Unfortunately, it seems my hopes for you were a bit idealistic. It seems some people never do change indeed." He remained the most stoic of the group, but his eyes bored into Faith as he gripped his ax with a firm hand.  
  
"I guess you were wrong G, but I admit I was beginning to tire of the good fight," Faith grinned, "so are we here for a talk or a battle? C'mon!" She danced back and forth, daring her former friends to come attack her.  
  
"We never should have trusted you!" shouted Wesley, who held a crossbow in his arms and pointed it straight at Faith. "I knew you were still the same lying slut I left in Sunnydale!" His face showed pure rage as Wesley gritted his teeth and stared down the sights of the weapon and raised his free hand by the trigger.  
  
"Woah there, Wesley I would watch it if I were you, you could shoot your eye out with that thing," Faith gleefully chuckled, "and for your information, you couldn't even take me if you had the whole Scooby gang with you and you don't have a chance with my man here."  
  
She was interrupted by a loud guffaw from Angel, who had remained strangely silent during the heated exchange. Angel shook his head and hefted a broadsword that he was carrying with one hand. He spoke, with pure malice in his voice, "your man killed Wood, Gunn, Fred and Connor and almost killed Willow and Oz. Now it seems a bit strange to me that you're with him, but nevertheless, I really could care less right now. If you want to die with La Morte, that's perfectly fine with me."  
  
The rival groups stared at each other for what seemed to be the longest time. Buffy, Angel and Wesley stared at Buffy and La Morte with complete hatred in their eyes. Faith was gleaming with joy and bloodlust; she had reverted back to her violent self, her sensitive side dissipating as battle drew near. Giles glanced at Faith like a wounded dog whose master had betrayed him. La Morte stood beside Faith, his head down and staring at the floor beneath him. He had a vacant expression on his face, free of any emotion or pain. It was as if he had withdrawn from the world.  
  
The silence was broken by a shout from Angel as he rushed forward at La Morte, swinging his blade high above his head in a cutting motion. Instantly, La Morte stepped backwards and brought up his claymore to parry the blow.  
  
Buffy took Angel's attack as a signal and ran straight at Faith, screaming "traitorous bitch!" at the top of her lungs. The attack took Faith somewhat by surprise, but her slayer instincts helped her react quickly to Buffy's assault. Faith blocked Buffy's slash with her dagger, wincing as steel collided against steel. Slayer fought slayer while the black knight fought the souled vampire as the sounds of battle reverberated throughout the church.  
  
Wesley kneeled and aimed the crossbow at La Morte, trying to secure a perfect shot which was made impossible by the swift movements of the two combatants. Giles stared at Wesley and then back to the twin battles taking place at the church. "Shoot him!" he cried at Wesley when he saw La Morte knock Angel's sword out of his hands with a powerful thrust with the claymore.  
  
Wesley took his opportunity and fired. "NO!" Faith screamed, glancing over at the black figure of her lover as she took a brief respite from her battle with Buffy.  
  
La Morte watched the bolt sail towards him and he made a quick backflip to dodge the imcoming missile. The arrow buried itself in the wall behind him, beheading a statue of a saint and imbedding itself in the plaster. Wesley fumbled with the crossbow as he tried to reload. La Morte growled and rushed at the two former watchers, his sword raised high. Giles stepped in front of Wesley.  
  
"You'll have to fight me first, black knight," Giles spoke as he swung the ax wildly to counter La Morte's blow. The black knight, noting the watcher's tall height, ducked underneath the blow and slammed into the out of shape Brit like a rock against paper, knocking Giles to the floor. Wesley charged at him, hoping to catch La Morte off guard by using his crossbow as a club. La Morte reached out with an armored fist and wrapped his hand around the taller man's throat.  
  
He squeezed, forcing Wesley to drop the crossbow and flail about with his hands, hoping to free himself before La Morte strangled him. Luckily, Angel came to his rescue and tackled La Morte, freeing Wesley, who doubled over and started breathing heavily as he fought to return oxygen to his lungs.  
  
The force of Angel's rush knocked the claymore out of La Morte's hands, sending the knight sprawling in a tumble with Angel, who was snarling and slashing with his long nails at La Morte's exposed face. The pale man seized the vampire's arms but had to put all of his strength into the parry. Angel lashed out with his foot, hoping to catch the knight in a vulnerable spot, but Robert avoided it by swinging his lower torso out of the way. He gathered enough strength to throw the vampire away from him and dive for his sword. Angel flew backwards, crashing against a wall where he left a huge dent.  
  
Giles swung the ax, hoping to sever La Morte's arm in a hopeful attempt. La Morte saw the watcher rush at him from his right and he somersaulted over to the left to avoid the downward stroke. He seized the sword from midair and landed against a pew, smashing it into splinters with the force of his fall. His fall broken by the boards, he rose to his feet to face Angel, who had also regained his blade and the two went at it again while Giles joined Angel in the battle with La Morte as Wesley struggled to reload his crossbow and recover from getting the wind knocked out of him.  
  
Meanwhile Buffy and Faith struggled, locked in a fierce combat and oblivious to the other battle only yards away from them. Buffy and Faith exchanged blow for blow, slash for slash, thrust for thrust until they were both exhausted from the exchange. They continued to fight, Faith slashing with her dagger hoping to strike a weak spot while Buffy parried the blow with her scimitar. She then tossed the scimitar away from her.  
  
"Now you're mine!" Faith sneered as she ran at Buffy and hurled the dagger at the blonde slayer. Buffy caught it effortlessly and slashed Faith with it, cutting across her arm. Faith winced but continued her charge and head- butted Buffy in the stomach, sending the shorter blonde reeling backwards and forcing her to drop her newfound weapon. Buffy struck back with an uppercut, but Faith blocked it and launched a judo kick against her nemesis, catching Buffy in the abdomen.  
  
Buffy staggered backwards, "I didn't think you had it in you Faith. I never though you'd betray your friends again, especially me, after all the things I've done for you!"  
  
Faith, who was nursing her wounded arm, responded, "Did your little friends tell you how they abandoned me to La Morte? How he almost killed me if it hadn't been for some bizarre stroke of luck on my part? You never cared about me Buffy, or any of your friends for that matter, all you cared about was your stupid vampire boy toy. And I don't mean Angelface over there-" Faith grinned, "He was the only one you cared about and now he's dead. Boo Hoo Hoo." She said in a mocking voice.  
  
"Don't you dare." Buffy shouted as she charged at Faith, striking out with a karate chop and a judo kick which Faith calmly absorbed and buried her fist in Buffy's stomach. They both fought, trading blow for blow and smashing each other in until both were bloodied and bruised all over.  
  
Faith wiped the blood off her lip as she smiled back at the enraged other slayer, "had enough?"  
  
"Don't worry F, this time, I'm not going to let you live," Buffy replied as she punched Faith right in the face while Faith savagely kicked her in the shins, sending Buffy doubling over in pain.  
  
"Ouch B, that hurt, but not as much as this one's going to," Faith squealed in pain as she drop kicked her wounded sister slayer. Buffy latched onto her leg and threw the taller raven-haired woman against the altar, knocking effigies and crosses aside.  
  
The holiest of places was being defiled by combatants. Priceless artifacts and ornate walls were destroyed by sword slashes, body slams and other vicious moves executed by the warriors that fought inside the church. A stained glass window was shattered by one of Wesley's straw crossbow bolts while Giles smashed a statue of the virgin Mary as La Morte knocked him backwards as he fought both the fallen watcher and the souled vampire.  
  
Angel refused to relent, lashing out with his free hand, his sword, his feet, his fangs, anything he could get his hands on. Vengeance clouded his mind and his soul as he fought the murderer of his friends and his only son. He swore he would make La Morte pay, he didn't care how much pain the black knight inflicted on him, he was going to win at all costs.  
  
"This is for my son!" he screamed as he swung his broadsword at La Morte, who blocked it with his own massive blade.  
  
"Afraid that's not good enough," La Morte replied as he unsheathed his rapier from his other side and ducked under Angel's cover, hoping to score a successful thrust to the vampire's heart. His blow was interrupted by Giles, who managed to sneak up on the black-haired man and the tall watcher brought his ax against La Morte's back in a crushing blow. The ax barely pierced La Morte's armor, but it sent the knight sprawling against the floor. Angel thrusted downward with his sword, but La Morte managed to avoid the blow and he knocked both of his adversaries to the floor with a series of kicks and punches to their legs. Both of them went sprawling to the ground while La Morte rose to his feet and rushed to aid his girlfriend in her predicament.  
  
He tossed his rapier into the air and Faith caught it as Buffy rushed at her with her retrieved scimitar. Faith blocked the rush and managed to slash Buffy across the shoulder, leaving a red gash longer than the one on her arm. Buffy backed off and hit the floor as Wesley fired another crossbow bolt at Faith, but her slayer instincts instantly detected the arrow sailing through the air and she dove to the side, crashing into another group of pews, sending a cloud of splinters into the air as the wooden benches broke her fall.  
  
She rose to her feet and returned to fighting Buffy but she had become tired as a result of the constant fighting while Buffy seemed to be absorbing the pain with merciless ease. Finally, Buffy managed to disarm Faith and held her sword to the raven haired brunette's throat. She walked her hostage forward as she saw La Morte smash Giles into a set of pews while he disarmed Angel with a thrust from his claymore.  
  
Angel looked over at Buffy, "kill her." He said nonchalantly, staring defiant in La Morte's face as La Morte raised the claymore in a motion to decapitate his foe. Wesley crouched and aimed the crossbow right at La Morte's eye, his finger about to depress the trigger while Buffy held her blade at Faith's throat. Giles staggered up and dusted himself off.  
  
"It seems we're in a difficult situation right now," he mused.  
  
"Yes.you're right," La Morte sighed, "there has been enough killing. It's time I was judged for my lifetime of sin and murder." He threw the claymore against the floor. "Spare Faith, she's not the one you hate. I love her dearly, but I must pay for what I've done. Angel, I want you to pick up my sword and kill me with it."  
  
"With pleasure," snarled Angel as he seized La Morte's sword and walked up to him. Robert fell to his knees, his hands clasped in prayer with his head lowered, awaiting the executioner's blade.  
  
"Robert no!" Faith screeched as she managed to land a kick against Buffy's stomach, freeing herself. She rushed over to La Morte as Angel was about to bury the blade in the black knight's exposed neck.  
  
"You will both pay then!" Angel screamed as he was about to deliver the final blow when he was interrupted by a loud voice from the church entrance.  
  
"Stop this at once! There has been enough murder for one day!" It was Willow, whose red hair was billowing in the night breeze. Her voice had enough power to make Angel release his grip on the blade and back off, lowering it to the ground.  
  
Willow's voice was terse and hoarse, she looked haggard and ruined. Her sordid appearance induced Wesley to lower his crossbow while Giles did the same with his ax. Willow walked up to Angel and gently caressed his face.  
  
"I know it's hard, to suffer the loss of your closest friend. But don't let vengeance take hold of you. I know, it happened to me when Tara died. It seems for the longest time that there's nothing you can do but extract a bloody revenge on the person who did it. You can't let it dominate your life, slowly wearing you down until you've turned into the very monster that you're fighting," Willow spoke slowly and softly, trying to stir the anger out of Angel's soul.  
  
Angel refused to listen to her, shouting back, "you cannot know how it feels! To loose your only son! To loose almost all of your friends to some accursed madman's blade! You don't know the rage welling up inside me, filling me with hate! I 'll tear him apart!" He bared his fangs, his eyes yellow with rage, glaring at La Morte.  
  
Willow continued caressing him, "please, Angel, if you let vengeance control your life, soon you won't care about the people you love. All you'll care about is revenge and you'll loose all vestiges of your soul to Angelus. And you don't want that, I know. I became the embodiment of vengeance and look what it did to me. I nearly killed my friends in a ruthless quest for retribution, almost destroying the world in the process. I won't let that happen to you as it did me."  
  
Angel glared at La Morte, who stood beside Faith, who had her arm around his waist. She glared back at him with hate and then back to La Morte, whose face was twisted with sorrow and despair. His vampire face slowly disappeared as he regained control of himself. Hate vanished from his eyes as he felt a tear drip down his cheek.  
  
"So we just forget about Wood, Connor, Gunn and Fred? I can't do that," Buffy glowering with fury at Willlow. "I'm not about to let this killer go free!" she screamed, raising her own blade. She walked over to La Morte, her eyes filled with death. "It's time he paid." She raised the sword to strike while La Morte prepared to accept it. Buffy brought the blade down towards La Morte when an ax suddenly appeared between La Morte and her sword, parrying the blow with a loud clash of steel upon steel, sending sparks into the air.  
  
Buffy found herself staring at Giles. The tall, bespectacled watcher stared down at her. His face was no longer contorted with violence and expressed the same gentleness as Willow.  
  
"I have no love for what he did but I won't let you descend into the same mindless violence as him or Faith. I love you too much for that Buffy," He reached out his hand and helped her drop the sword. Buffy lost her hateful expression and stared at the ground with a vacant expression as her mind realized what she almost had turned into.  
  
"No, don't spare me," La Morte blurted out, breaking down before everyone in the room. "I am nothing but a ruthless killer. I was used to be a honorable warrior, a noble knight who fought for the oppressed, but that part of me is no more. You don't know how it is like to watch your own blood be poured out of you in some grotesque ritual. To be turned into some abomination, to be constantly struggling with your own sanity as your two halves tear each other apart! Thousands died before my wrath, before my inquisition. I burned alive men, women and children for my demon's own sadistic pleasure. I did things in the name of good that are too horrible to utter in this place-" He paused for a moment, then pointed at Willow.  
  
"Yet you freed me from the clutches of the demon. He was the monster who had consumed me, made me do those horrible things. My mind was left imprisoned while I watched in horror- for hundreds of years. And you freed me from that madness, but I remember the faces of everyone I murdered. Especially your boy, Angelus," he sputtered, "I am sorry for what I did, but the only way for me to atone-"  
  
He pulled his rapier from his side and brought it alongside his throat. "Is to die." He looked at the ground as he was about to pull the sword back to slit his own throat. But before he could do it, Faith jumped on him and wrested the sword from his grip, tears filling her eyes.  
  
"No! You can't die!" She screamed, "you can't!" She hugged him while he looked at the others with a glazed expression on his face, as if he was still begging for death to overtake him.  
  
Angel's eyes suddenly glared yellow once more with hate as he felt a new surge of violence overcome him. Overpowered by this sudden force, he broke free from Willow, raising the claymore above his head and charged. La Morte shoved Faith away from him, sending her sprawling several feet away from him. She wept bitterly as Angel reached La Morte and was about to swing the claymore down upon the helpless knight, who bowed his head in defeat and submission. 


	6. Envoi

Angel's yellow, vampiric eyes flashed in anger. The light seemed to dance in every ridge and crevice of his demonic features. The demon inside the man basked in the malevolent glee. Robert LaMorte's reign of terror would end here. Now.  
  
"I love you Connor..." Angel muttered under his breath.  
  
"I love you too, Dad."  
  
Angel spun his head around and looked at the face of his son, Connor. It took him a few more seconds to realize that he wasn't in the cathedral anymore... or that any of the other combatants were there with him. He gasped at the sight of his son, and then at the scene before him. Instead of the old musty pews, arcane statutes, and smell of rotting wood... he now stood on a hill side, overlooking a view of rolling meadows, deep and lush pastures, and a small town encircled by a tranquil river. There were makeshift stone fences on the hillside, separating small flocks of sheep and their keepers. A small stone fort stood stoicly, nestled among some overgrown oak trees and creeping vines.  
  
"Altagore..." Angel whispered, gazing at the old fort. "And that's Cushendun", he said as he pointed to the nearby town. "But how...?"  
  
Connor walked up to his father, and looked curiously at him. Before he could say another word, Angel closed the gap between them and embraced in a desperate bear hug - clutching to the teenaged boy and pressing his head against his own.  
  
"I love you... I love you... I love you...." Angel kept repeating in a hoarse, ragged voice. When he pulled away from the boy's face, he saw tears streaking the young man's cheeks - to match his own. "I'm sorry Connor... I'm sorry..."  
  
"It's not your fault", Connor stuttered, "I... I knew what I was getting into... and... and..." The words failed him as fresh tears came down his face. His father embraced him once more, and racking sobs shook the two Irishmen. After what seemed like hours or sobbing, crying, holding each other... the two sat under a shady oak... heads resting on each other. Angel stroked his son's hair, the way a parent would to a small child or a toddler. Connor was older, but he didn't care. Connor was his baby... HIS baby. Connor just basked in the show of affection - a dreamy look on his face. He turned to his father, breaking their repose, and said, "Dad, we can't stay here forever. The Powers That Be sent us here so I could talk to you."  
  
Angel smirked. "I know that son. This isn't really Cushendun is it?"  
  
"Yes it is... or at least, it's the Cushendun in your mind."  
  
"So why are you here?"  
  
"To tell you that I love you, that I'm sorry I never said it in life... and to beg you to spare Robert LaMorte."  
  
"What?" Angel spat out. He shook his head. "That... THING... will pay for what he did to you."  
  
"You're right Dad, he will pay", said Connor -taking his father's large hand into his own. "In fact, he's only starting to pay right now. He's trying to put up a strong front... but those walls are crashing down, and crashing fast. You can't kill him... because he's got some kind of role to play in the Apocalypse..."  
  
"Is this guy supposed to be a champion?"  
  
"No, not exactly. But he's got to do something important... fulfill some kind of destiny... I don't know. The Powers didn't give me the details."  
  
"They never do." Angel smiled absently. "I know what you're going to say..."  
  
"You do?"  
  
"Yeah. This guy killed you and I'm no better than him.... and I can't bring you back... but DAMMIT! When I look at you... all I want to see is this man DIE!"  
  
"Yeah Dad... and what do you see when you look at them?" Connor pointed in front of them. When Angel turned his head to look he nearly jumped out of his skin. There, standing on the hill with them, as plain as day... where ALL the people that Angelus had ever killed. Every last one of them.. each still bearing the bodily damage and bloody clothing from their untimely deaths. They stared at Angel... but oddly, with looks of compassion and even sympathy.   
  
Angel lost it... "No.. no.. no..." He closed his eyes and shook his head repeatedly. He looked up at the crowd of victims, crying uncontrollably... and the gathering of long dead people walked up to him. To Angel's utter shock and dismay, the people surrounded him and embraced him. Men, women, and even children held on to the man who was once a vampire. They stroked his hair, patted his back, and offered up endless condolences for the loss of his son.  
  
An old woman said to him tenderly (in an unintelligable accent), "Don't cry... you've already brought us justice by killing Angelus. As long as you live... and fight on... we did not die in vain." "The same goes for LaMorte, Dad", said Connor. "Killing me was what allowed his true self to start to rebel against the demon's control. Without that inner struggle, Willow's spell wouldn't have worked. As long as he lives... and fights on... I didn't die in vain."  
  
Angel looked at his son incredulously... mouth gaping open as he took the younger man's words in. "I don't know if I can forgive him son."  
  
"They forgave you Dad", Connor responded, pointing at the throng of dead well-wishers. "And I have a gift for you..." Connor placed his hand on Angel's temple and Angel's mind was immediately flooded with images. The images were an amalgam at first, swirling, jostling, spinning with fury... but then they settled into a slow trickle of pictures, sounds, smells, and even touches. He saw it all. He felt it all. He lived it all... a lifetime of happiness spent with his son. He saw Connor grow up, saw him graduate from college, helped him through his first years on his own... then watched Connor wait for his bride Bonnie walk down the aisle to marry him. He saw the look on Connor and Bonnie's eyes as they held Angel's granddaughter, Emily, in their arms... the girl had her mother's eyes... and then he saw, and he lived though, the rest. The years flew by in real time, an entire lifetime played out before his mind's eye...  
  
When it was over, only he and Connor remained in the quiet Irish meadow. He stood up warily, a look of elation, satisfaction, and quiet contentment on his face. He looked at his son breathlessly. "Thank You... thank you..." He hugged his son once more. "How...?"  
  
"Love lives on, Dad..." Connor looked at the man-vampire with the love and pride and honor that children reserve for their fathers. "Bonnie and Emily are here with me... I don't know how... but we all go on... and in the End... if you win... that's how our lives will be. Everything will be set right... but you need to let LaMorte play his part... he must live..." And Connor, and indeed the entire meadow, began to dissolve back into the Cathedral. Fresh tears stung Angel's eyes, as he watched his son go back to the nether regions of the beyond. "Don't cry tonight, Dad... you'll still be loved..."  
  
And Angel looked down at LaMorte once again - the dark knight's eyes begging him to swing the blade that would send him to eternal penance. "I love you Connor..." The sword made a loud, crashing twang as it hit the church's stone floors and bounced around. The knight shook his head in horror and disbelief, and began to shudder. Angel grabbed the man by the shoulders and picked him up into an awkward bear hug.  
  
The knight couldn't stand on his own. He buried his head in the vampire's chest and wept bitterly - clutching Angel's back and letting out loud, guttural moans. "Kill me... I deserve it...I deserve it... I deserve..." his muffled voice trailed off.  
  
"We both do", Angel said.  
  
"What the hell is this?" Wesley snarled, watching vehemently as Angel embraced the foul murderer of his own son. He stormed over, "I'll do him in then." He pointed his crossbow at La Morte's face. He ignored Faith's imploring look and concentrated. Wesley was about to press the trigger when Angel finally spoke up.  
  
"Wesley, I want you to put the crossbow down."  
  
Wesley stared back at Angel as if the latter had gone insane.  
  
"Are you mad, you have the blaggard right here before you, groveling for you to kill him and now you want me to spare him?"  
  
Angel nodded.  
  
"You're all bloody mad," Wesley stormed off, "and if you won't kill him now, I'll kill him the next time he crosses paths with me."  
  
Angel released La Morte, who collapsed on the floor, moaning and weeping, a blubbering mess. Faith crawled over to him and caressed his face, herself reduced to feeling nothing but pity for the broken man she saw before her.  
  
Giles turned to follow the former watcher but Willow motioned no. She then walked over to La Morte, who remained weeping on the floor, a pathetic sight for all to see.  
  
Willow asked softly, "La Morte?"  
  
"Yes?" La Morte lifted his head, his face broken and listless.  
  
"Where is your former master?"  
  
"He's in St. Timothy's cathedral, about several miles east of here. You must stop him before he destroys the world. He needed the Key to do so-"  
  
"Just like Glory," Buffy piped up, "And we need to get there soon."  
  
Giles nodded, "We don't have very much time, we must stop him before he finishes the ritual. Buffy, Angel and Willow are you coming with me?"  
  
"Yes," they all assented. The former Scooby gang shuffled outside of the church, walking past the devastation the battle had wrought.  
  
Angel watched the others leave except for him and Buffy and he turned around to face the duo he had been previously fighting.  
  
"I understand what happened to you. And you're as cursed as I am. It's difficult for me to say this, but I, I. Forgive you. Wesley won't, you can count on that, but I think the others will. You can avenge your wrongs by helping us."  
  
"Thanks A, we'll meet you there soon. But for now, just let us be," Faith and Angel stared at each other as enemies came together for a truce and a hope for peace. Angel shuffled out of the cathedral, leaving Buffy alone with Faith and La Morte.  
  
Buffy was the last to leave, she shuffled slowly out of the church, dragging her scimitar with her. She turned around to face Faith and La Morte, her face flustered and depressed.  
  
"I'm sorry Faith, I wish I could've accepted you. But I didn't."  
  
"And now it's too late for that," Faith replied, "Run along now B, save the world like you always do. I'm fine here with Robert."  
  
Buffy turned around and walked out of the church, slamming the doors behind her.  
  
Faith and La Morte were left in the darkened church with only moonlight and the candles that remained lit after the scuffle to illuminate their bodies. Faith kissed La Morte on the cheek, prompting La Morte to stare back at her.  
  
"Faith, we must help them, we must undo all the wrong we created." His formerly cold brown eyes now brimmed with sadness, almost to the point of tears. Faith's fiery eyes met them and she sighed. Then, she embraced him, tears rolling down her face. As much as she tried to conceal it, the battle against her former best friend had torn her apart. She loved Buffy like a sister as much as she was secretly jealous of her and now the bond between them had been permanently shattered. She had betrayed the others, and she enjoyed their company, even the normally stuffy Giles or the quirky Willow or the sarcastic Xander. They were all out of her grasp now. She had no one, save only for a fellow tormented soul like her that struggled between his demon side and his human side. She looked out of the corner of her eye at the slammed door and cried silently in her heart as she realized how the closed door had shut her out of the world of her friends and into a dark, despairing abyss.  
  
EXECUTIVE PRODUCER  
Kurt Garwood  
  
WRITTEN WITH SOME HELP FROM  
DZ Dilinger 


End file.
